Must Have Done Something Right
by prongsno
Summary: Mary MacDonald is sick. Sirius finds that, apart from pepper-up, kisses are the best kind of medicine.


"How are you feeling?" Sirius Black asks with a grin, eyes wandering to the small human sized lump that twitches at the sound of his voice.

The lump groans and moves slightly.

"Absolutely smashing," Mary MacDonald peeks out from under the thirteen blankets that are on top of her to give Sirius a glare.

Her nose is red, she's still wearing the same old tshirt of his, she's still surrounded by a mountain of scrunched up (and no doubt soggy, full to the brink of germs) tissues. She still gives him goosebumps.

He's laughing as he kicks off his shoes and shuffles towards her, placing the bag of shopping delicately on top of the coffee table that's just within her reach. Mary groans again and turns back to the TV, which is now currently playing it's second re-run of The Magnificent Seven.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, you know."

"Neither does health, apparently."

"I got you some lemsip," he pulls out the yellow box from the bag and throws it, albeit softly, at where he assumes her head is. There's another groan and the blankets fly off, revealing half of Mary's face.

"I feel like a walrus chewed off my head and spat it out into the ocean," she grimaces and grabs the box, checking it's the flavour she asked him to get (blackcurrant, which he did - of course).

He's silent as he sits down on the only free bit of sofa, and she instantly moves her legs so he has more room.

"Only your head?" he murmurs softly, shuffling closer towards her. Like a sack of potatoes, she instantly leans back towards him and he wraps his arms around the bundle of blankets.

"My body feels like wet cardboard that's been floating on the shores of a deserted island, lost and forgotten."

She sneezes and wipes her nose on her newest bit of tissue and he moves his legs around her, cradling her in his arms. She rests her back against his chest, her feet tucked under his in perfect harmony. He moves his hand slightly, trying to find the opening of her blankets.

Her body is hot, and he rests a hand against her forehead to double check.

"You know," he says with a smile, flicking her nose softly to which she scowls, "this would all go away if you just had some pepper-up."

She groans, they've had this conversation a dozen times. "Pepper-up makes it too easy," she sniffles, leaning further back into him. "It's just a cold, nothing I can't handle."

"This morning you said you couldn't remember what breathing normally felt like."

She's silent for a second, frozen, before her body suddenly lurches forwards and she sneezes. He instinctively passes her a new roll of tissue and she whispers out a timid, ' _thanks_ ' and falls back onto him, groaning like a banshee.

She's still burning hot against him and he runs one hand through her hair as he kisses the top of her head. He stills against her when she lets out a happy, content sigh; there's a flutter in his stomach and he can't help but want to be closer to her.

He leans forward, kissing her cheek tenderly.

"Don't," she squirms, "I'm ill and gross and disgusting-"

But her voice dies down when he grabs hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb against hers as he kisses her palm.

"Mary," he says, whispering against her, "you could be covered head-to-toe in dragon pox and I wouldn't care."

"That's really cheesy," she grins, closing her eyes as he places a kiss on her forehead this time, "maybe I should be ill more often."

He rolls his eyes but moves down to kiss her temple, a smile glued to his lips. "The next cold you get you are having pepper-up."

She doesn't disagree with him this time, just murmurs softly and brushes her lips against his neck.

"I love you, Old MacDonald."

Her eyes crack open, and she stares at him in both shock and amazement, "Don't you dare-" she starts.

"Had a farm-"

"Oh my god-"

"E-I-E-I-O."

She grabs hold of a cushion, ready to whack it in his face but she never falls through. Her hands falter as she stares at him. He's grinning fondly at her, and he cocks his head slightly to the side, trying to understand what she's thinking.

He loves her. _Loves_. She can't hear it enough, every time those words fall off his sweet lips she can't believe it.

He must know what she's thinking, because he winks (that stupid, egotistical wink that makes her heart flutter) and he kisses her forehead once more. It's a short kiss that leaves her breathless against him, and he quickly untangles himself from her to stand.

She's still hot, but for the first time it's not because of her cold.

"I'll make you this lemsip then, shall I?"


End file.
